The Sheriff

He left specific instructions for me. The key was waiting in the early check-in box at the front desk. I went into the room, left the latch open and sat on the bed facing the window which overlooked downtown Richmond. It's was gray day and the ragged, century old buildings suited the skyline, but felt out of place as I sat on a luxurious down comforter. omni-hotelThe room itself was also luxurious. I felt quite comfortable.

I heard the door open; he wasn't quiet entering. His uniform is bulky (yes, we will discuss my adoration for uniforms another time), and I could hear the tinkling of all the devices on his belt. I didn't turn around. I just took a deep breath and felt myself become the woman I needed to be for him.

I heard him undress and begin the short walk to me. He climbed onto the bed behind me and kneeled. My back was against his chest and I could feel he still had his undershirt and pants on. His hands found my neck and he tilted my head aside and whispered in my ear, "I've waited years for this."

He was swift and I found myself on my back sitting up on my elbows, biting my lip, looking up at him innocently. As I expected, the fist thing he did was rip off my tights, he bit down harder than I was anticipating on my inner thigh, but I took it in stride and simply begged, "Please...don't..."

He looked up from my legs and into my eyes, "You. Are. Mine."

There was a fire behind the ocean of blue in his eyes. He wasted no time. He pulled my up to my knees by my blouse and lifted it up over my head. His hands immediately found my breasts and his mouth found my neck.

Next, he told me to get off the bed. I stood, facing the window again– in full view of the city, and he stood behind me. He unzipped my skirt, unclasped my bra and pulled my thong off.

"The entire city can see you and see that you belong to me."

He bent me over the ottoman and cuffed my hands behind my back. He wasn't gentle about it, which I enjoyed. I wasn't sure what I expected, perhaps more foreplay. He knew what he wanted though, and I wasn't really in a position to refuse. I heard him take off his pants and he entered me. That, admittedly, felt amazing. He grabbed a handful of my hair and pulled me up so my chest was exposed and my cuffed hands could feel his thrusts against me.

"I know you're a fucking whore, but right now, you're my fucking whore and I don't want you to fuck ANYone else so long as I am around. Your pussy is mine."

His other hand found my neck and I began to fade fast. Then, the fun began.

I pushed against him and scrambled away–tripping, of course, because gracefulness is not my strong suit. He became furious. Perfect. When he finally caught up to me he grabbed my shoulder, faced me towards him and backhanded me, I fell to my knees. It hurt, but in a way that made me incredibly wet. He grabbed my hair again and this time he put himself in my mouth. He seized the sides of my face and muttered things like, "Take that fucking dick, you bitch. Don't you ever run away from me again." The sentences were staccato with every thrust. My lips dug into my teeth and I couldn't breath. He pulled out, and lifted my up by my hair. He laid me on my back again, my hands still behind me. He put my legs over his shoulders and put his hand over my mouth. His face was close to mine, His eyes were wild and he entered me again.

He lost himself in that moment. He pounded against me hard, harder than I have had in a very long time. I held back screams and just looked at him pleadingly in the way he likes.

He finished when I faked my orgasm.

He uncuffed me and started to speak. I just put my finger over his lip and asked him not to. I walked into the bathroom, locked the door and took a shower. He took the hint and was gone by the time I finished.

At this rate, I am going to need longer lunch breaks.